Galatians 6:2 tells us, “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.”

I tend to associate this verse with the many ways I see Christians stepping up to help others: launching GoFundMe campaigns, donating groceries, covering childcare, mowing lawns, and dropping off meals. It’s easy to think of people’s physical needs as small “burdens” we can help alleviate through love and generosity. But there are many other kinds of burdens we end up bearing for those we love, and they’re often harder to talk about and harder to help with.

Perhaps you’ve had a friend seek you out as a trusted confidante to disclose something traumatic or painful. Or you’ve been there as a loved one endured a personal crisis. Even just in the past week, a few of these kinds of stories have turned up on the Christianity Today site: what happens when a spouse shares that he is leaving the faith; how to better understand the anxiety and depression experienced by youth today; how to respond to family members with addiction. In my own circle recently, I’ve had friends finalize a divorce, make their way through a NICU stay with their little girl, and grieve a suicide.

These scenarios prove to be spiritual, emotional, and relational burdens—not to say that the people are a “burden” to us, but to acknowledge the pressure and deep, biblical desire we have to help amid suffering.

While there are plenty of passages that direct us to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and give generously to others, Galatians 6 is not one of them. Instead, it is asking us to draw near to fellow believers in their crises of faith, suffering, and grief, so that we can help point them to God’s truth.

While providing a meal or making a donation can be a minor inconvenience, talking somene through the throes of doubt and darkness can be far more to bear. Ideally, we could do this in community, as part of the Body of Christ, but sometimes the situations are more sensitive or disclosed in confidence. In those cases, we might find ourselves feeling like the sole lifeline, the one responsible for saying or doing the right thing to care well for the other person.

I usually pray fervently, ruminate, and debate how to bring comfort, usually with a smattering of text messages, Bible verses, and offers to bear-your-physical-burdens thrown in for good measure. But ultimately the best advice for our stressed-out selves is the advice we can offer our suffering brothers and sisters as well: We are ultimately dependent on God in every situation, and he is good and trustworthy. It is the Spirit who empowers us to love in the first place—to conquer selfishness or complacency with evil in order to seek goodness and joy.

Kate